Thus terminated one of the most remarkable combats on naval record. The action had lasted over a quarter of an hour. There is little use in surmising what might have occurred had not the ships run foul of each other.
The Chesapeake had received little injury to affect her safety, while the Shannon had several shots between wind and water, and could not have sustained an action at gunshot distance for any great length of time.
The two ships presented terrible spectacles, says a witness. “Crowded with wounded and the dying, they resembled floating hospitals, sending forth groans at every roll.”
The brave Broke had received a severe wound in the head, and was lying delirious on board of his own vessel. He constantly inquired for the fate of his gallant adversary, and kept speaking of the “masterly style” in which the latter had brought the Chesapeake into action.
Lawrence, though conscious, sealed his lips and never spoke, though suffering great bodily pain, making no comment upon the battle. He lingered four days, and finally expired.
His body was wrapped in the colors of his ship and laid upon the quarter-deck of the Chesapeake, to be conveyed for burial to Halifax. At the time of his death he was but thirty-two years of age, sixteen years of which had been passed in the service of his country.
Great were the rejoicings at the British port when the two vessels sailed in, and our hearts cannot fail to be touched by the honors paid on this occasion by the British to the departed American hero.
His pall was borne by the oldest captains in the British service that were then in Halifax, and the naval officers crowded to yield the last honors to a man who had been so lately their foe. There is a sympathy between lofty souls that knows no distinction of clime or nation.
As usual, much controversy over the numbers engaged and the weight of armament was aroused.
So far as can be learned, the crews were nearly matched, each numbering about four hundred.